APHRODITE’S ISLAND #3
After dumping her unfaithful fiancé, Diana Harper accepts an invitation “to attend a private event at Miss A’s island retreat to experience your most secret dreams and fondest fantasies.” Miss A gives “Teddy” to Diana as an “attendant.” Despite his best efforts, Teddy isn’t a submissive and the skimpy gold thong is ridiculous on a man his size. Although she’s not a domme, Diana plays his game to see where it leads. When Teddy offers her profound passion, the best sex ever, and the prospect of love, will she take a chance on another broken heart?
Theodore Bareston IV will do whatever it takes to win Diana’s love, even though “whatever” includes wearing a thong and posing nude in chains when Diana’s interest in her art revives. As the sexual tension builds and passions explode, Teddy is determined to convince Diana that he is the only man for her.
THE STORIES CONTINUE WITH “CUPID”S BACK IN BUSINESS” from Champagne Books
HER TEDDY BARE, Aphrodite’s Island #3
Diana Harper tossed her mail on the coffee table and opened the door. Laine stormed in from her apartment across the hall, retrieved glasses and wine from the kitchen, and settled in her favorite chair.
“Go to your club and knee the bastard in his balls in front of everybody. Then you can dump him. How dare he cheat on you?”
Diana flung herself on the couch, kicked off her heels, and picked up her glass of Chablis. “Then he could sue me for battery. I have a reputation to maintain. Besides, I dumped him last night.”
She didn’t want company this evening. Not after her life had gone from almost heaven to a living hell in under five minutes. She wished she could do exactly what Laine suggested, but it wouldn’t fix anything. Maybe Laine, with her red hair and matching Irish temper, could get away with it, but not her. God only knew what her friend would say if she heard the whole story.
The scene repeated itself, as though stuck in a loop. Walking in on her fiancé in her apartment. The petite blonde, plump boobs bouncing, as she fucked Franklin in her bed. When he noticed she was there, the bastard invited her to join them implying she wasn’t enough for him by herself. He claimed he needed variety in his sex life. Something she apparently was unable to provide.
It hurt even more that he’d picked up a skinny blonde skank while she was a brunette who needed to diet constantly.
“Di? Are you listening, Di? Are you OK?”
“I threw him and the bitch out. Tossed his clothes and hers into the hallway. That was enough of a scene for me.”
“Where did the rat bastard go?”
“Don’t know. Don’t give a damn. He kept his studio apartment after he moved in with me a few months ago. After yesterday, I can imagine why.” Variety. He’d taken his women there. At least he’d been wearing a condom yesterday. They hadn’t when they made love. She believed she was in a monogamous relationship and he hadn’t told her any different. They had planned a December wedding—reservations and deposits made, dress bought. Thank God the save-the-date cards hadn’t been mailed and the invitations hadn’t gone to the printer.
She looked at the mail on the table. From the middle of the stack, an envelope screamed expensive. Another invitation. Whose wedding would she be attending this time? She’d have to paste on a smile, explain repeatedly why her “and guest” was not there, then return home to her empty apartment to cry her heart out. She’d wasted over a year on the sonofabitch, too much time when she’d hit thirty on her next birthday.
She retrieved the letter from the stack and used a nail to pry up the wax seal embossed with a palm over a heart. So unusual, worth saving. She scanned the contents.
“What do you have there, Di?”
“An invitation, but not to a wedding.” She handed Laine the card as she considered her reply.
“You are invited to attend a private event at Miss A’s island retreat to experience your most secret dreams and fondest fantasies. Oh my God, Diana, I can’t believe I know someone who received an invitation to Miss A’s island.”
“Whatever are you talking about, Laine?”
“I’m not surprised you haven’t heard about this. With your writing and painting, you don’t get out enough.”
Elaine’s off-handed comment was like a knife in her gut. Franklin had said the same thing. Her books and art made her a popular guest on the New York party circuit. He’d insisted that they attend several events every week. Good for business, he said. His, maybe. Not hers. It was obvious now he’d used her contacts to further his career as an investment banker.
“Tell me, Laine.”
Her friend tucked her legs under her and sipped her wine. She was in for a long story.
“The marketing world keeps an ear to the ground. To be successful, you’ve got to know what’s happening.” Laine took another sip of her wine. “Well, talk is that a mysterious woman, known only as Miss A, holds events on her private tropical island. The details are very sketchy. Very exclusive guests or clientele, don’t know which. Those who attend never discuss what happens there. You simply must go and tell me everything when you return.”